Bittersweet
by Pear-Shaped
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not uncomfortable, dull and just plain awkward. Mild Contestshipping, dedicated to prettygirl17.


**Hello! I hope you enjoy this (I know it's not **_**great**_** but whatever)  
This was dedicated to prettygirl17 since last time I made one for her, it failed. Epically. And geez this is kinda sappy and short but I'm proud so…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or its characters in any shape or form.**

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There is a tense atmosphere that he had predicted, had braced himself for, but still feels utterly unprepared for. She greets him solemnly, trying to regain her calm composure; he notices how she subtly avoids eye contact and all subjects pertaining to their former relationship.

"How…how have you been May?" His friendly tone is forced and somewhat formal, like she's a stranger that must be addressed as such. He wants to start teasing her, to start criticising her arrogantly like he used to and rid them of the uncomfortable mood.

Her hands – he notes the way they shudder as she moves them – make their away to her shoulders and brush away stray locks of her chestnut brown hair. "Yeah, I've been alright."

The steaming cup that she is clutching tightly gives him a sense of nostalgia. It had just been the two of them, sipping hot chocolate in his living room. Max hadn't been home, he'd been on an outing with Molly (he called it an outing but he knows it was a date) and their emotions had been running high.

"Drew," she had said, smiling softly at him. He remembers her placing her hands on top of his larger ones, and yet they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. He likes to think that Arceus made them that way. On that night, she'd told him she loved him, snuggled into his side and watched the flames dance in his fireplace.

A crooked smile and almost unnoticeable blush adorns Drew's face as he remembers how she'd ended up resting on his shoulder, much to her younger brother's glee and excessive teasing when he'd returned home. Half asleep and filled with bliss, she'd whispered, "I love you."

And while he hadn't replied to her feelings for a few weeks, their relationship had remained stable and happy. A pang of regret resounds in his chest when he recalls memories of their time together; he knows that its climatic ending was his own fault and while he's tried to convince himself otherwise, it was far and away the happiest time of his life.

"Has Brianna been well?" Her voice is distant, and he yearns to hear her speak to him as she normally does – gentle and curious, though irritated whenever he insulted her.

He struggles to find a suitable answer; longs to say that Brianna has never meant more to him than she did. Instead, he finds himself smirking and answering, "She's been great."

"That's good." Her voice catches on the last syllable and her mask shifts for a moment. A deep sadness lies beneath her cool demeanour, and he wants to wrap her in his arms, whisper sweet nothings into her ear like before. He almost does, but the table that stands between them brings him back to his senses. How they'd come to sit in the same booth has escaped Drew's memory, but he doesn't mind.

"Oh Drew, you're early! I thought that–"

Brianna pauses and May sees the sliver of dread that passes through her when she sees her.

"May, you're here too?" The younger girl's smile falters, and May has known since the incident with Drew that Brianna is good at pretending. So she is not fooled by the sweet act and instead presses her hands to the table, standing herself up.

"I was just leaving," she replies crisply in that business tone that Drew had never liked; because he prefers it when she's being herself.

As Brianna sits down where May had been and starts chatting about heaven knows what, Drew follows May with his pale green eyes. Her slim body, the short brown hair and pale skin, even the back of her sends his heart into overdrive. But he knows, and she knows, that their time is over. The cuts are too far in to heal naturally and stitches are too painful – for both of them. So he won't say anything to stop her from leaving and she doesn't hesitate when she exits the shop, but both feel the sting – the sting of what was lost and can never be recovered.

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**Thanks for reading? I know it's sort of OOC but it's all for the sake of…suiting the situation. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it!  
PS;) **


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